Ask Tommy
by sailorhathor
Summary: Takes place near the end of 'Paul is Dead.' Alva convinces Paul to try to contact Tommy through a Ouija board before he carries out his OTHER plan.


  


**Ask Tommy**  
A **Miracles** Fanfic  
by Laurel Wilson

  
_This story takes place near the end of the episode "Paul is Dead." I wrote it because it bothered me immensely that Alva, someone who knows a great deal about the paranormal, did not suggest any other methods to Paul of how they could contact Tommy - you don't have to kill yourself to speak to the dead! "Ask Tommy" is my response._  
  
Switching on the overhead lights as he entered the SQ office, Paul repeated, "Keel, I still think this is pointless. We should be heading to your friend's place. There's little time."  
Alva walked in behind him, taking off his scarf and draping it over a chair. "You promised you'd try it, Paul. You _are_ a man of your word, aren't you?"  
"Yeah, yeah." Paul sighed, rubbing his eyes. "But this had better be quick."  
"One cannot rush the spirits." Alva reached behind a filing cabinet and pulled out a plank of wood with letters and numbers painted on it. He placed it on the long conference table in the office and gestured for Paul to sit down.  
As he watched Alva wipe off the dusty board with a pre-moistened wipe from atop the nearest bookcase, Paul pondered the Ouija board quietly, finally asking, "Where's the pointer thing?"  
Alva replied, "The planchette? This kind of board uses an overturned wine glass for that."  
Paul, amused, retorted, "We couldn't afford a Parker Brothers Ouija board, with a plastic pointer?" He halfheartedly repressed a grin.  
Alva gave him a scolding glare. "I know this whole Ouija board thing is a joke to you, but you want to contact Tommy. You think he may have answers for us, to help us find Matty. Alright. But I am not going to let you _kill_ yourself in order to talk to him until we've tried other, saner methods first."  
"We talked about this already..."  
"Yes, and you agreed to it. A Ouija board is a perfectly acceptable way to contact the dead."  
Paul shook his head. "How do you know? You can't see what you're contacting. At least if I die briefly, I can actually _see_ Tommy."  
"Your method is just as iffy as mine. What if Tommy is somewhere else, what if he doesn't come?" Alva asked.  
"He'll come," Paul assured him. "He's been coming to me for weeks."  
"Alright, then he should come just as easily to a Ouija board." Alva tossed the wipe into a trash can. "It won't take that long to find out."  
"Keel, I don't believe these things work; they're just toys." The edge that Paul felt to his mood came out in his voice.  
"Humor me, alright?" After retrieving the wine glass from his office, Alva wiped out the inside of it with a paper towel, and walked back to the table. "We'll have you put a finger on the glass, and I'll write down what the Ouija spells out."  
Paul examined the homemade board then, noticing that although it was square in shape, the black alphabet and numeric set painted on it formed a circle, with "Yes" and "No" on the right and left sides. Near the bottom, inside the circle, the word, "Good-bye" appeared. "Aren't you supposed to have at least two people put their fingers on the pointer?"  
"Usually, but that's just an old superstition that really only applies to a person using a board completely alone, repeatedly, in a more intimate setting. Besides, we're going to say a prayer," explained Alva.  
"Okay, _that_ I can stand behind."  
After getting a pad of yellow legal paper and a pen, Alva held out his hands, over the board. "Let's do this then."  
Strangely, Paul did not even bat an eye, as if a part of him understood the importance of doing this prayer properly, despite his skepticism. He took Alva's hands, and they formed a bridge of faith over the Ouija board.  
"God, hear our prayer," Alva began. "Protect Paul while using this tool of contact with the spirit realms. Nothing may enter our realm through this board, nor use it to harm Paul through possession. The contacted entity may only influence the wine glass to move. Amen."  
"Amen," Paul repeated. He let go of Alva's hands, and placed two fingers on the base of the upside-down glass. Truthfully, he was a little surprised that Keel would use a simple prayer for this kind of protection; Paul expected something a little more elaborate from him. But, they _were_ pressed for time.  
Alva picked up the pen and spoke to the open air. "We would like to speak with the Thomas Ferguson concerned with Paul. Tommy, will you come talk with Paul and I? Please indicate when you are here by telling us hello."  
Paul waited with his fingers poised on the glass for several seconds, but nothing happened.  
"Tommy, you've been coming to Paul for a while now. Is there something you need to tell him?"  
The glass did not move at first, but then bobbed back and forth just slightly. The movement was barely noticeable. Still, Paul's face lit up with hope and excitement. He was remembering an incident from his teenage years at the orphanage, when a girl named Amanda had smuggled a Ouija board in from the toy store, and he and a few of the other kids had met late at night in a predetermined, secret location to play with it. Teenage rebellion against the Catholic church... curiosity... they both played a part in the act. But Paul knew it was just a game, because he and one of the other boys had planned ahead of time to push the pointer around the board, giving the girls answers to their questions about, "Who will I marry?" and, "Are Poppi and Sister Mary Agnes secretly in love?" that would make them squeal, all cute and wide-eyed. The way the wine glass appeared to move of its own power, like a living thing - he'd never felt anything like that before. Maybe Keel's idea really would work.  
"Paul, let's make sure that your will does not conflict with the board's. Focus your eyes on something else besides what the board says." Alva tapped a place on the table where the lights threw a glare. "Focus on this."  
He looked up at Alva. "You'll tell me what Tommy says as we go along?"  
"Of course." Once he saw that Paul concentrated only on the glare, Alva continued trying to get Tommy to make contact. "Are you here now, Tommy?"  
"Tommy?" Paul repeated. Suddenly the glass slid smoothly across the board to _HI_.  
"Let's make sure this really is him. Tommy, who am I?" Alva asked.  
The glass moved around the board with Paul's fingers on it, spelling out words that Alva wrote down. Both men listened to the sound of the brim gliding across the wood, and Alva's pen scribbling across paper. "Keel, am I supposed to be feeling a pronounced tingle in my hand?"  
"Shhh." When the glass abruptly stopped, Alva held out the paper and read, "Paul's boss, Mr. Keel. He spelled it 'Keal.' Well, he was only ten... children misspell things."  
"That was an easy enough question."  
"Hm. What happened to Paul that you saved him from, Tommy?"  
The "planchette" began to move again. _TRANE CRASH_. Alva read it back. "You saw Paul's blood spell something out while he lay there injured. Didn't you?"  
_YES_. The glass went to that word quite quickly, making a louder scraping sound as it did.  
"What did - "  
Before he could even finish, the planchette was sliding around the board. "_GOD IS NOW HERE_."  
"God is nowhere?"  
_NO_.  
"God is now here?"  
_YES_.  
Alva read that back to Paul, satisfied with this little test he had given Tommy. But the glass began moving again, without being asked a question. _U WERE THERE TOO_.  
Alva wasn't sure what to say to that. Clearing his throat, he asked, "What do you need to tell Paul?"  
_HE NEEDS TO COME SEE ME_.  
Alva had to refrain from sighing heavily when he read that to Paul. "Can you please just tell us through the board? That's safer for Paul, isn't it?"  
_MUST BE DELIVRED PERSONALY_.  
Now sighing, he tried to reason, "Paul, we can't be sure this is really Tommy we're talking to."  
"He knows things only Tommy could know," Paul protested. "Besides, if that's possible, then why are we wasting our time with this board anyway?"  
Alva, obviously frustrated, spoke to the board, "Are you saying that the only way you'll tell Paul what you want him to know is for him to _die?_"  
_YES_, the glass indicated.  
"Why?"  
_ONLY WAY_.  
"Why?!"  
The glass stilled here, shaking a little, wavering over an answer. It finally began to spell something out. Alva's face grew a bit troubled as he read along.  
Paul looked up at him when the glass stopped. "What?"  
Sighing again, Alva read, "_I'm not alone in here_." He paced to the other end of the table and back again.  
"Is that good or bad?" Paul queried.  
"In this case, it sounds a bit ominous." He paused to think, rubbing his chin. "Paul, ask Tommy something only you and he know."  
"Um... Tommy, when you came to see me that first time in my apartment, you told me something about The Darkness. What was it?"  
The glass slid purposefully from one letter to another. _IT WANTS_.  
Paul nodded when Alva read it back. "That's right."  
Leaning on the back of a chair, Alva asked, "Is there something in there with you that's keeping you from telling us, Tommy?"  
_YES_.  
He was obviously not happy with that reply. "Is there any other way we can find out where Matty is?"  
_NO. ASK TOMMY._  
Alva furrowed his brow. "Then you're not Tommy now? Who are you?"  
The glass stayed very still for a few moments, as if thinking it over. Then it spelled out, _IM WAITING FOR YOU_.  
Swallowing hard, Alva read it back to Paul. He didn't like the sound of that.  
Paul blanched, swallowing himself. "The dream that Tommy and I had about meeting each other, before we actually met... he said those words in the dream." Taking his fingers off the glass, he declared, "It's time to go see your friend, Keel."  
"What? We're not done here," Alva said with some desperation.  
"The tingle that I felt in my hand dissipated completely once Tommy answered that last question. He cut off contact, Keel. He's waiting for me with the answers to how we can find Matty." Paul stood up. "Let's go."  
"Ah... Paul... but, this is so risky. If anything goes wrong..."  
Walking around the table, he grabbed Alva's coat, handing it to him. "You said if I tried one other method of contacting Tommy, you'd take me to see your friend. I tried it. Let's hurry."  
Alva, beside himself with frustration and worry, almost begged, "A seance. Next we'll try a seance. Maybe - "  
"Keel! I kept my word! Now you keep yours." Paul put his coat back on, and headed for the door.  
"You've got to stop letting your guilt lead you around by the nose!" Alva growled at his back. Paul stopped, and sighed. "Tommy may've been a child, but he made a choice, and if you don't want his death to be in vain, you need to live. Move on."  
Paul momentarily turned back. "Are you coming?"  
After a few seconds of glowering, Alva snatched up his scarf. "Fine." He started after Paul.  
Satisfied, Paul turned to go too.  
Alva defiantly added, "But whoever or whatever the jerks are who are in there with Tommy, they better not keep you too long."  
There came a scraping sound behind them, like the noise of the glass sliding quickly across the Ouija board. Alva turned just in time to see it flying through the air, aimed right at his head. With a startled expression, he ducked, and the glass struck Paul in the back of the head, shattering into hundreds of tiny pieces. He cringed and cried out in surprise.  
"Ow!" Paul's hand went to the back of his head. "What the..."  
"You're bleeding." Alva grabbed the box of tissues on the desk nearby.  
"I feel that. What happened?"  
"The glass flew off the Ouija board and hit you in the back of the head. Er, I'm sorry, that was meant for me. I ducked." He applied direct pressure to Paul's cuts. "It's not that bad."  
Paul couldn't help but laugh a little. "What about that prayer we did? For no harm to come to me?"  
Alva, shrugging, pointed out, "That was really only in case of possession. Anyway, the glass was meant for _me_."  
Paul snorted. "Either way, it wouldn't be the first time I didn't get an answer to a prayer."  
For some reason, that made Alva frown slightly. "Paul... when we get your head to stop bleeding, will you do me one more favor? Will you let me go by the police station on the way to my friend's place so we can check if they've found Matty one more time? Maybe we don't need to carry out your plan at all."  
Paul wasn't going to fight him on that; it _was_ a good idea. "Alright. Let's head out. If my noggin's stopped bleeding."  
"It has." Alva threw the bloody tissue away. "We'll clean up this glass later."  
On their way out the door, Paul joked, "Don't you ever tick off another Ouija entity again, Keel. My head can't take it."  
They both chuckled over that; it was a nice break in the tension of the day. What they didn't notice was the wadded up tissue in the trash can, that Paul's blood had almost predictably formed words in a child's small, messy scrawl. It read, "It wants YOU."  
  
  


*******

  
When Paul and Alva arrived at the police station, Evie was already there, looking dejected and stressed. Alva rushed to her, keeping up his false hopes. "You found Matty? He's safe?"  
"Do I look like a woman whose child is safe?" she snapped, and put a hand to her face. "No, Alva. I'm sorry. They thoroughly searched the building; Matty wasn't there."  
Frowning, he let out a long sigh. This not only meant that the child was still out there, in danger, but that Paul would insist on carrying out his plan.  
Paul approached Evie, a gentle, resigned expression on his face, like he had fully accepted the responsibility he felt to her and Matty. "I know I'm the last person you want to talk to right now, but I just wanted to tell you that I'm going to help you find Matty. Okay? Keel and I are going right now."  
Evie glanced over Paul's shoulder at Alva's strained expression, then back at Paul. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
They all suddenly jumped as a stack of file trays on a cabinet on the other side of the front desk fell to the floor. Paper scattered everywhere; a policeman walking by with a cup of coffee hopped back to avoid stepping on them. "Aw, man, I just organized those..."  
What happened next reminded them all of a line of dominoes being pushed over - just lightly touch one, and the whole lot goes down. After the first stack of file trays fell, suddenly, they all started to fall. Every desk in the vicinity emptied itself of any trays and files that were on top of it, some of them actually shaking up and down. The legs of several desks thumped loudly against the tile floor. All of the police officers in the station recoiled and watched the vandalism happen right before their eyes, shocked at the fact that they couldn't even see their vandal.  
"What is going on?!" an officer yelled. A pile of papers flew right into his face, which he tried to deflect by flailing his arms wildly in surprise. The stack went all over like a waterfall of paper. It was almost a lovely display, Alva mused to himself, the way the papers cascaded down in a plainly choreographed formation. But choreographed by what?  
Evie and Paul both gasped at the wanton destruction. They ducked as a coffee mug flew over their heads and crashed through the front window of the police station. "Keel, what's causing this?" Paul called over the thumping of the desks.  
Shrugging helplessly, Alva replied, "There are several possibilities."  
"It's like the Kittredge case all over again!"  
As if the invisible vandal heard him, a heavy metal desk lamp levitated into the air and shot across the room, toward Paul's head. Paul, remembering Poppi's advice, ducked. The lamp veered downward and collided with a wooden bench, breaking off one of its arms. This made a loud, heavy crack, and a clattering sound, followed by the deafening clang of the metal lamp hitting the floor.  
A pot of coffee played follow the leader by flying off a table and smashing against the wall. The hot beverage incredibly appeared to form words as it ran down the vertical surface. "ASK TOMMY. HURRY HURRY!" it said.  
Paul gaped at Alva. "Did you see that?!"  
The water cooler joined in the game by jumping up off its stand to splash water all over the wall behind it, before collapsing to the ground. This message was harder to read, but they all saw the clear running water spell, "I'm waiting for you," on its way down.  
"Keel..."  
"I saw it." He turned to see Evie's reaction to the messages.  
She looked at Paul, astonished. "This is all because of you."  
Just as suddenly as it had started, the poltergeist-like activity stopped, and the station fell quiet. They stood there in all that wreckage, the floor littered with papers, broken glass, and splinters of wood; wet with spilled water and coffee, and all Paul could see was the way the police officers... and Evie... looked at _him_. He could have been every sideshow freak rolled into one person with the way they were looking at him, or at least that's how it made him feel. Paul _hated_ it. At that moment, he would have done anything to turn back the clock and get his mundane, unsatisfying life back. Anything was better than having one of his own friends pushed to such limits that she could look at him like that, like she was afraid of him. Like he might be dangerous.  
"You should have told me you weren't safe," Evie whispered, repeating her words from earlier that day.  
Paul visibly winced at those words, closing his eyes for a moment. The look on his face could only be described as devastated. "I - I'm sorry, Evie."  
Alva had never been good with emotional tension; he attempted to change the subject. "Do you smell that?" he asked, sniffing the air. "Smells like ozone."  
Evie recalled this detail from previous cases. "Ectoplasm smells like ozone."  
"Yes, and ectoplasm is the residue left behind when a spirit enters our world."  
"Which means these messages come right from the other side." Even Paul was surprised with how weak and emotional his voice sounded. Swallowing hard, he said nothing else, just purposefully headed for the front door, and Alva's car beyond.  
He turned to Evie again. "You stay here, and keep up with the search for Matty. I will..." _Help Paul kill himself. Go to prison for murder. Hate myself for ever allowing this crazy plan to happen._ "...I'll look after Paul. We'll see you soon."  
"Okay." She gave Alva a desperate, clinging hug.  
Knowing she needed that, he hugged Evie back, patting her shoulder blades. "The police will find him."  
The sergeant came out of his office, removing his headphones, and surveying the damage spread out before him. He looked at the other stunned cops and bellowed, "What the hell happened in here?!"  
One of the officers mumbled, "They're heeeere."  
Alva left the trashed police station then, hoping that Paul's plan would not make a liar out of him when he told Evie they would _both_ see her again soon.  
  
("They're here" is a reference from the movie _Poltergeist_, for those who have not seen it. Thanks to Min for the Beta read.)  
  
**Ask Tommy** is (c) 2004 Demented Stuff  
**Miracles** is (c) 2003 Spyglass Entertainment  
  
Back to The Stories. 


End file.
